Frostbite
by Karen Kannabilly
Summary: Jack Frost x Reader oneshot drabble. Snow is beckoning, and Jack Frost nips at toes.


**a/n: **I'm forever drawn to an antagonist. This was a draggle-type thing that my friend asked me to write. Jackfrost x Reader, nonetheless.

Feedback makes me happy~

Will most likely end up coloring the cover image.

**Frostbite**

Crisp white blanketed the landscape, the joints of winter's figurative fingers twitching smoothly in a come-hither motion. Magic in the form of the weather's alabaster coating beckoning you, your body enticed to feel the artic-styled, smooth air filling and refreshing your lungs.

The dull voice of the local weatherman joined you as you forced your arm through the sleeve of a jacket, ending as you began to make the loops to tie the stings of your boots.

"And folks, remember to _bundle up, _seem's ol' _Jack Frost _is nipping at everyone's toes today!" The man quirked his eyebrows foward and screwed his mouth to flash white teeth in an I-made-a-silly-comment smile.

You jabbed the round black button, his stupidly proud face disappearing from the screen in quickly occurring ebony.

...

"What did I tell you about the _freaking snowballs_?" Your voice stretched, strained, in your throat.

"I _didn't throw it_, lady, I already told you!" The kid retorted, looking viciously indignant now.

Flakes of moist snow dripped off the side of your beanie as you shook your head at the boy, not wanting to yell. "Considering you threw the one at me before and your little girlfriend over there has been hanging back this whole time, that's-"

"The one before was an _accident_!" He interrupted. "You're crazy, I already said I didn't do it!"

The little girl watching the isolated argument nearby cast her doll-like, worried eyes to the ground and offered a barely audible suggestion, perhaps eager for the situation to dissipate, "Maybe it was Jack Frost?"

You gave an irked sigh at this, huffing as you turned your back on the two children. "Ugh, just forget it."

Starting slowly for the direction of a frozen-over pond in the short distance, you heard the quick crunches of their little boots sinking into snow. Then, an abrupt and freezing impact against the back of your head. Bubbling with anger, you stopped short and jerked your body back around, mouth open and tongue ready to throw words rather than snow.

Their expected tiny figures, pudged by thick, bubble jackets, were absent. Nothing but bright ivory meeting you in the surroundings.

"Sneaky _brats_," You spat, hoping to draw out a few giggles that failed to be completely muffled.

After a few moments of silence, you waved your hand at the empty area before you. To hell with it. Continued your walk, making quick progress of dominating the distance in a somewhat lazy jog.

You carefully placed a boot on the ice, looking over tenuous, white lines that fluctuated and meandered with no real rythme or intent. Marks left behind by the blades of iceskates, providing evidence of the ice's saftey to you. You pushed further, less cautious. Speading your arms for balance, you now pressed your boots over one line that was more spaced from the turmoil of the others, walking the length of it as if it were a tightrope. It led you to a patch of discoloration.

Appearing as if it had previously refrozen, the relatively large patch caused a feeling of discomfort and worry to dawn on you. You immediatly stiffened, you yourself frozen, your only movement the slow turn of your neck to glance behind you.

Of _course_ you'd have walked this far out.

"Figures." You commented bitterly, now engaging in a painfully sloth-like movement backwards, keeping your eyes on the patch. Treating it like it was alive and had the ability to send hands contrived of a whirlpooling, algific water to snatch and drag you into the Earth.

You blinked, stopped your backwards treading.

The ice before you was... misting over, recoloring itself in blinding white to match the rest of the pond, frost spray-painting over it audibly.

Unsure, but definately curious, you walked cautiously back to it, bending down an arm's length away, reached out. Bunted it with the tip of your gloved finger, applying more stress to it during increases of time.

Solid? Safe? Looked it.

_Does that ever just happen? Like, does something just ice over before your eyes THAT quickly?_

There was no feedback from the ice to answer this question.

...

You sat, legs tucked under you and supporting your bottom, your window in forefront. You stared, probably looking entranced, the magic of snow made more tangible by new flurries, contrasting white specs moving ephemerally against the coal-colored sky.

The ill-defined sound of a tongue-in-cheek mannered female voice on television floated into your ear drums. "Well, looks like Jack Frost will be nipping at our toes tonight as the temperature has now dropped to..."

There that phrase was again, that little household, "friendly" way of talking about frostbite.

"_Nipping at your toes..._" You repeated, inclined to muse as it brought about the incident with the ice earlier in your mind.

On key, an intense coolness wafted over your bare feet, tickling the pads and ends of your toes, creating a jump to rile through you.

You flexed your brows, issued a discomposed breath at a noise- a _frosty_, cracking sound emitted from the surface of your window. Your jaw dropped as your eyes caught a _heart_ being clearly _drawn in flecking ice_. You ran them back over the sentiment-inspired shape, taking it in with a highly mounting befuddlement. You conducted your vision to the space in front of you.

Nothing was there, not anything that was directly visible and solid to your eyes- but an atmosphere of its own did exist, swirling into some form you could sense bit by bit, as if your retinas were finally collecting the ability to focus on and perceive something...

Or some_one_.

"Jack Frost...?" You whispered questioningly, the stilled air before your lips curling and mingling in a cold osculation.

His lips left yours, now curved in a smile that was discernible.


End file.
